The Fall of Friends
by Southpaw Swordsman
Summary: On the battlefield, it is common to lose one of your own, but the thought never occurs to you until it actually happens. HetaOni universe.
1. Magic

**A/N: This story is set in the world of HetaOni, a Hetalia fan production told in the format of a survival/horror RPG. If you haven't seen it yet, I strongly suggest you do so sometime in the near future. There is a YouTube user known as SotetAG who has all the available parts of the story (up to part 17 1/2) with subs in many different languages if you can't read Japanese... like I can't. To warn you, the story gets rather sad.**

**For all of you who know what I'm talking about, this story takes place in one of the many loops, but not one that has been seen in the game.**

**I may or may not continue this, and if I do, this story may end up just being a series of oneshots that take place in the HetaOni universe.**

**Oh, but I've talked long enough.**

* * *

><p>The monster recoiled slightly as a thousand attacks slammed into it, but its dull, lifeless eyes continued to stare unblinkingly at its assailants. America quickly reloaded his gun, and began firing mercilessly at the beast's enormous gray head. "Shoot…! This isn't working at all…!" He hissed through gritted teeth. The beast didn't seem to suffer any wounds as the bullets bounced harmlessly off its leathery skin. It took a single menacing step forward, causing America to let loose a loud string of swears.<p>

Prussia stood off to the side, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly and cursing with all of his might. The blade had been shattered when he tried to attack the monster head-on, so all he could do was look on uselessly.

Within seconds, America's magazine was empty. As he fumbled with his ammo, England roughly pushed him out of the way.

"I'll handle this," he growled, shoving his palms towards the beast's monstrous form, "Take this!" he screeched at the monster as his palms began glowing with a ghostly light, "Sectumsempra!" everyone in the room was blinded as magic flashed from England's hands and into the body of the monster. The beast, however, didn't seem at all fazed at this turn of events.

"Sectumsempra! Expecto Patronum!" England's voice roared over the noises of the magic's impacts on the beast's giant body, "Reducto! Reducto!"

"England, stop!" America shouted over the clamor, "You're going to…"

"SHUT UP! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" England screamed, forcing his palms forward viciously as magic continued to fly out of them, "Expecto Patronum! Reducto!" The monster stared dully as the bright magic struck it from all sides, illuminating and burning its leathery skin with every impact.

Suddenly, without any warning, the beast struck. Its thick arm slammed into England's body with so much force that the man became airborne for a few seconds. Eyes wide with shock and pain, England sailed through the air soundlessly and crashed into the bookshelf behind him. The impact caused many books to topple to the floor and the shelf swayed dangerously, but did not fall.

"England!" America shouted, running to his friend's aid, "England! Are you okay?" America tried to pull England to his feet, but England stubbornly refused his help. He clutched the sides of his torso and wheezed, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. His eyes, however, trained on the gray monstrosity before him.

The beast's expression had yet to change from apathy as it took another step forward. America panicked. He immediately raised his gun and aimed, and the air was filled with the loud sounds of gunfire as the young man began shooting yet again.

"You idiot… the gun doesn't do anything…" England muttered, stumbling to his feet, his breath regained. His hand slowly and shakily grabbed onto America's shoulder, "Let me fight it."

"No! You're injured!" America snapped as he reloaded his gun again.

"No I'm not!" England hissed, "You're being an idiot!"

"But… your magic… you could overexert yourself!"

"I won't!" England roared, "America, you don't have to be the hero, let me do this! I'm perfectly capable!" Without waiting for a response, England grabbed the back of America's jacket and pulled him out of the way. His green eyes flashed dangerously as he forced his palms toward the monster, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

"England… don't…!" America cried out, "You're not the hero!"

England wasn't listening, or perhaps he didn't hear at all. The magic that had only issued from his palms started pouring forth from his entire body, swathing him in a ghostly white light. "I'LL KILL YOU!" England screeched, ignoring his former brother altogether as his eyes locked on the monstrous form.

America watched in stunned horror as his friend seemed transformed before his eyes, "I'll still help…!" America said, though he was certain the other wouldn't respond. He then began firing more rounds at the monster, though it felt as though he wasn't doing anything but making noise and wasting ammunition.

England continued to screech a mixture of spells and swears, even after his voice became hoarse, the magic beat on the monster's body until… a distinctive sound of crackling filled the air. The beast had faded away… it had been defeated.

"It… it… it's gone…" Prussia said, shock and relief mingling in his voice, "You did it… you did it, England!"

England stood motionless as the magic slowly faded from his hands.

America's face brightened slightly, "Yeah… we… we won…"

It was then that England swayed on his feet.

America frowned and approached his former big brother, "England? Are you okay…?"

"Y-yes…" England murmured… and suddenly his legs gave way. America immediately threw his arms around his friend's shoulders to steady him, but it was obvious England couldn't stand at all anymore. America slowly brought him to the floor to allow England to lie down. He placed England's head and shoulders on his lap to use as a makeshift pillow. America frowned as he inspected his former brother's face. It looked too pale…

"England…? Are you okay….?" America asked again.

"I…" England responded hoarsely, his eyes flickering downward.

"England… look at me…" America whispered, "Are you okay?"

The young man's eyes slowly looked up at America, but they were unfocused, pointing just slightly away from America's face, "Maybe… maybe I did use too much magic back there…" he smirked tiredly. America began frowning deeper.

"England… how many fingers am I holding up?" America asked, putting his hand before his former big brother.

England gave a weak laugh, "America… what a stupid thing to do…"

America's expression didn't change, "Tell me."

England's small smirk faded. "I…" he began, his gaze not moving, "I'm sorry…" he whispered, closing his eyes.

"You're sorry…?" America asked quietly.

"I can no longer see…" England said softly, turning away.

"What did you say? You can't see?" America began cursing loudly, "You've gone blind?" America shouted.

"It doesn't really matter, though…" England continued quietly, "I've used up far too much magic now, anyway…I guess you were right…"

"I don't understand…"

"At the time, I was too focused… I didn't realize that I was fueling it with my own essence… now… now I feel it… or… rather… I don't feel it… if that makes any sense…"

"England…?"

"I guess I'm just as much an idiot as you are… I tried playing the hero…" England gave a weak laugh, "…I guess we're not as different as I thought…"

"I… I… what do you mean? What are you saying?" America asked.

"I'm sorry… America…"England sighed, "Sorry for being… a stubborn…"

"England, don't talk, save your strength! We're going to take you back and you're gonna get fixed up!" America cried.

"No… you don't understand. Magic shouldn't be used as recklessly as I had used it… I'm paying the price now…" England said softly, "I think… I think that… the price is too steep for me to pay, though…"

"No… no… don't talk like that…"

"America… just promise me one thing…" England sighed, "Don't go and get yourself killed. Live… live and get out of here… I… I can only wish that I could go with you…"

America picked England by the shoulders to try to look him in his unseeing eyes, "Stop talking like that! You're not going to die! Don't…"

England smiled weakly at his former brother, and then his body went slack.

"No, no! You can't do this, you can't die on me…" America whispered, "Come on, wake up! Stop pretending! This isn't funny… wake up!"

"America… I think that he's…" Prussia began, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" America screamed, knocking the German away, "England! I know you can hear me! Get up! Please! Please, just get up!" he began shaking the lifeless form roughly, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"

"America, cut it out! Screaming won't make him come back!" Prussia snapped.

"No, no, no… why are you such an idiot…" America whispered, seeming not to hear Prussia at all, "Get up… get up… This isn't how it's supposed to work… I'm the hero. I'm supposed to be the hero…" He held his former brother's limp body close, tears suddenly springing up in his eyes, "You're not supposed to die… You can't die... you can't die…"

The door was suddenly flung open and Japan's voice cut through the air, "We heard screaming! What's going…" the man's dark eyes trailed on the young man clutching the lifeless body of his friend, "Oh no…"

"Is that…?" Germany's voice said weakly.

"England…" America whispered, tears flowing freely now, "ENGLAND!"

* * *

><p>"He killed the enemy, but he died because he overexerted himself," Prussia explained, looking towards the room Japan was preparing.<p>

Russia looked down, folding his hands together, "I see… that's terrible…" he said softly.

China looked on without saying a word. _Anyone can die here…_ was all he thought. The three were in the hallway, keeping watch if another enemy showed up while the process was taking place. The rest of the countries had dispersed into the two rooms: the one Japan was preparing and the room across the hall from it.

The room across the hall was the room America was in.

America was sitting up against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, his forehead resting on his knees. He had spent half an hour punching holes into the wall until his knuckles began to bleed, and after that he completely broke down. Every so often, a muffled sob escaped his throat. He wanted to die… he wanted to die…

Italy soundlessly watched as America cried, but eventually couldn't bear take it any longer. He got up and left the room, crossed the hall to the room Japan was preparing, opened the door quietly and walked inside.

It was filled with flowers.

He took in the sight as harsh wave of melancholy hit his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling as he walked into the room. "They're beautiful…" Italy said softly, picking a flower up and admiring it.

"They're fake…" Japan sighed, "We can't find flowers here… so I had to make them out of paper… thank heaven that there are so many books here, though I don't much like tearing them up…"

_He's said that so many times…_Italy thought, putting the paper flower down.

"How's this one?" the soft voice of Canada asked.

Italy looked up to see the young man holding up a rather pretty paper rose. Japan smiled sadly at it, "It's beautiful. Good job."

"Thank you…" Canada whispered.

Italy couldn't avoid it any longer. He looked over at the body of his fallen comrade lying in the single bed and felt his heart tighten slightly. _Dead. England is dead…_ He gave a sad smile to the two other countries, remarked how well the preparations were going, and then departed from the room.

"Did you see him?" Germany asked as Italy returned and down silently beside him. Italy nodded, but his eyes never met his friend's. Germany frowned and slowly, awkwardly, put his arm around the smaller man in order to comfort him. Italy shrugged it off, his expression not changing. Germany's eyes widened in surprise. Italy never rejected physical contact...

Slowly, the smaller man put his hand into his jacket and produced an old book with a leathery black cover. He opened it and flipped through the pages.

_Italy's bible…_ Germany thought, _Perhaps he wants to do the service…_

"I failed again…" Italy whispered.

"What's that?" Germany asked. Italy suddenly stood up, clutching the black book to his chest. He gave a deep, sorrowful sigh and began to walk. "Italy! Where are you going?" Germany called after him.

Italy looked over his shoulder and gave his friend a small, sad smile. "I'm going to make things right."

He walked over to America, kneeled down and placed his hand on the young man's back, "I'm sorry," he whispered. America didn't respond at all… it was difficult to say that he even heard Italy speak. _He's so deep in his depression…_ Italy thought sadly. After a few seconds, he sighed and got back onto his feet, "I promise I'll make this right," Italy said softly, his eyes not leaving the suffering country. A jolt of pain struck his heart, _How many times have I promised this…?_

His head bowed, he walked past Prussia, China and Russia without telling them where he was going or why. The three watched him leave without a sound, as though something unseen was stopping them from even calling out his name. Perhaps it was the melancholy light in his eyes or the slow, deliberate manner of his steps…but they could tell that there was someplace that Italy had to be, there was something he had to do. It didn't seem right, or even possible, to stop him.

Slowly, Italy made his way down the staircase and onto the first floor… just so that he could be alone. He continued along hallways, walking simply for the sake of walking. After he was sure he was far enough away from the others, he broke down.

He clutched the black book to his chest as tears spilled out of his eyes, _I failed! I failed again…_ he continually thought, though he daren't actually cry it aloud. This was his responsibility and his alone…only his cross to bear… if anyone ever actually found out…

_They'd hate me. They'd all hate me… and they'd die again…_ They died regardless. No matter what he did, they died. So many times, he had gone back, and so many times, he had seen them meet their fates. By then, it was he who wanted to die. He wanted the monster just to come at him and kill him… that's what the monster wanted, right? Why didn't it do so? Did it just enjoy tormenting him?

_I have to go back again… I have to make it right… no one is going to die… we're all going to survive… and somehow, I will make it right…_

…_regardless of the cost._


	2. Brothers

**A/N: This story will forever hold the "complete" mark, even though I may occasionally update. This is because at the end of each chapter, the story remains complete. After all, this will just be a series of oneshots.**

**This chapter involves Canada and America.**

**Note: I used the term "human" in this story because in HetaOni, they do not carry the weight of their nations in the mansion.**

**Edit: After some thought, I have decided to change the wording back to its original (pre-uploaded) state. If you cannot tell the difference, that's fine... the change is subtle.**

* * *

><p>"H-how is it?" the young man gasped, watching as his brother carefully inspected his wound. He didn't have enough strength to sit up unattended, so his back rested on the wall. His brother crouched beside him, tenderly removing the young man's bloodied coat and shirt.<p>

"It's…" America's mouth suddenly went dry as his eyes took in the damage, _Bad. Terrible. A huge chunk his side is completely gone!_ He gently touched around the injury, flinching when he heard his brother hiss in pain, "You'll be okay, it's fine." He croaked out.

"You don't have to lie to me," Canada said weakly.

"Who's lying?" America asked, looking up, but trying to avoid his brother's eyes.

"Is… is at least… Kujijiro okay?"

America looked down, "He… I…" the man didn't trust himself to speak. When the monster had suddenly attacked, the bear had jumped out of Canada's bag unbidden. He launched himself at the monster in a ferocious attack, but the beast had evaded him and focused its sights instead on the two humans. When the creature succeeded in sinking its claws into Canada's side, America wasn't thinking at all about the bear. All that was going through America's mind was how to get his brother out of there.

"Oh…" Canada whispered, looking away, "Kumajiro…"

"Hey… he's a strong bear, I'm sure he'll be fine," America said.

"Right… like… like I will be fine," Canada said, gasping.

"You will be fine!" America shouted, beginning to tear up Canada's ruined shirt to use as makeshift bandages. _It won't do any good…_ a voice in the back of his head hissed.

"Y…you really think so?" Canada whispered.

"Of course," America said, quickly wrapping the cloth around Canada's torso, seeing in horror that the blood was already soaking through.

Canada looked down, unsure. His breath was ragged and weak, like China's… right before he…

_No._ America told himself firmly. _NO._

"You will get out of here," America said, he finished dressing the wound and pulling himself up beside his brother. He wrapped his arm around Canada's shoulders, his voice getting soft and desperate, "…and when we get out of here, what say we go grab a couple beers and watch a hockey game. Just you and me…"

Canada smiled weakly, and rested his head on America's shoulder, "I…"

America could feel young man's shallow, labored breaths, so he gripped his brother even tighter. _Stay with me…_

"I'll root for your teams this time…and-and I'll even watch curling with you."

"That would be nice…" Canada whispered.

"Then, we'll spend the rest of the day telling each other stories, like how we used to do when we were younger. Do you remember that?" America asked, finally looking down at his brother. Canada weakly raised his head to look America in the eyes, and America felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. His brother's clear violet eyes had become hazy; his skin had become abnormally pale.

"I…remember…" Canada said softly, studying America's face. His eyes fluttered closed as he slumped onto his brother's shoulder, "Th…thank you…"

His labored breaths slowed, shallowed, and soon there were none at all.


	3. Sunflower

**A/N: This particular oneshot focuses on Russia, who was harder to write than I had first envisioned... especially since his character is one way, the fan base makes him another, and HetaOni's Russia seems different than both of them. ****I'd like to thank all of you for reading this collection, and I hope it continues to hold your interest.**

**Oh, one more thing. Each of these stories, unless indicated otherwise, are in loops that are independant of one another.**

**Alright, I've talked long enough.**

* * *

><p>The force of the iron pipe brought down on the monster's head would have fractured a normal human's skull. However, this monster was anything but human. It blinked its large, blank eyes slowly, its expression the perfect picture of apathy... it was frightening. Russia froze, rooted to the spot, staring into the creature's cold, lifeless gaze and gripping the pipe tightly in his hands.<p>

The monster simply raised its hand and, without warning, sharply plunged it into Russia's abdomen. Russia didn't even have a chance to utter any sort of sound of shock before he crumpled to the floor.

The monster looked down at him with glassy eyes, watching uninterestedly as the man on the floor clutched his stomach and gasped. The length of time it took to make any move at all made Russia think that it was debating what its next action would be. Which, if course, seemed silly… the beast was powerful, but certainly not smart…

Just as his breath was regained, Russia felt something collide with his abdomen yet again and send him back a few feet. Russia gave a cough, tasting blood mixed with his saliva, _Is it playing with me…?_ Russia thought, trying to pick himself up and ignore the metallic taste that flooded his mouth.

When he shakily returned to his feet, He held the pipe aloft, as though it would somehow frighten the enemy. The monster, however, looked on uninterestedly, as though the man before it ceased giving it amusement long ago.

Then, suddenly, pain… an explosion of it in Russia's chest. His eyes snapped wide. _Did it… did it even move…?_ He thought in disbelief, sinking to his knees, dropping his pipe and clutching at his chest. Blood seeped between his fingers, staining his gloves a deep red. The beast seemed too far away to have been able to touch him… _how… how fast is it?_ Russia asked himself, staring at disbelief at the gray monstrosity.

The beast blinked again, slowly. Then, it began stepping closer, taking its time.

_It definitely is playing with me…_ Russia decided, trying to struggle back to his feet. His eyes pointed to the door, hoping against hope that _someone_ would suddenly appear. _Someone_ would help him out.

Russia's eyes snapped back to the beast's, glaring as furiously as he could into those dull, emotionless eyes. As he made it to his feet, his hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists. Looking anywhere else would be pointless… he never had to rely on anyone before… why would he have to now?

The monster had suddenly drawn frightfully close. Russia was ready. He slammed his fist into the beast's head… no, straight into the beast's eye, in hope of doing some sort of damage. The beast seemed unfazed… but even more strange, the eye didn't give way at all to Russia's blow. It was as though it was made of stone…

The beast raised its hand and Russia tensed. However, he couldn't stop its arm from shooting out, almost as fast as lightning, or its hand from wrapping firmly around his neck. Russia immediately grabbed hold of the monster's wrist, trying to pull himself free from its grasp, but to no avail. The monster held tight, not giving way in the slightest.

In panic, Russia began laying blows on the creature's head with all of his strength, but the monster continued to stare at him with a blank expression, as though it couldn't feel the attacks at all. Then, without warning, the monster's grip on Russia's throat tightened and the nation's consciousness wavered.

_Is… is this how I am going to die…?_ Russia asked, staring into the apathetic eyes of the monster, seeing his reflection on their glassy surfaces, noting his own frightened expression. Did the creature get any pleasure from that, from seeing its victims' fear right before they died? Is that why it did the things it did? Then again, its expression led someone to wonder… did the creature even feel at all? Russia choked again, spitting up more blood. He then latched onto the monster's arm again in another futile attempt to pull the creature from him.

The monster slowly continued to constrict Russia's throat… slowly, it became harder to breathe.

_I am going to die…_ Russia thought, his consciousness wavering once more, his grip slackening. _I wonder… will it leave my body? If so… when the others find me, will they give me a funeral…?_ Russia's mind flashed to the memorials of the countries who had fallen before him: France, Prussia, America…

The monster constricted his throat even tighter and Russia gave a little gasp. _They were really nice funerals, weren't they?_ He thought to himself, _with paper flowers and bible readings…_

Tighter.

_I wonder… if they'll fold flowers for me…_

Tighter still.

_I hope they do… _

As the monster tightened its hand again, the last of Russia's breath left him. With the final bit of strength he had, he gave a soft smile.

_I wonder... if they could make a sunflower._


	4. Cassandra Truth

**A/N: I had this story long before the stories that make up chapters two and three, but I couldn't seem to let myself post it until now, I had to keep on tweaking it.**

**This particular story features Italy and involves the infamous second loop. Unlike all the other stories thus far, this one does not contain explicit character death.**

**Fun fact: When I had finished the Hetalia anime, I had three favorite characters: America, England and Russia. It wasn't until the middle of HetaOni that I ever paid that much attention to Italy. He now resides on my favorites list, and Germany got up there as well. Strange what a fan production can do to change your opinions on characters.**

* * *

><p><em>GO BACK!<em>

The driving rain was suddenly gone and Italy's clothes were completely dry. The monster, the house, the rain… it had all vanished. In their stead were the familiar walls of the meeting hall, the electric light, the other nations… _The other nations!_

Italy tried to grab his head in disbelief and clunked himself with the book he had in his hand. Head somewhat smarting, he gazed down at the journal in disbelief. _It… It took me back. The monster took me back! I… this is amazing… I can't believe it listened to me…_ Had the words he had screamed in desperation actually affected the creature? Did the monster take him up on his offer? Was it going to try to "catch him first?"

_If I can help it, it won't get the opportunity to ever catch any of us again…_ Italy thought fiercely.

He inspected the journal carefully, and then opened it up to the first page. There, written neatly upon the paper, was a name: _Italy Veneziano._

Italy simply stared for a few seconds. _So, I guess this means… I've become Ryuuzu…_ he thought.

He stood still, just trying to simply take in what happened. _Okay! This is very good. As long as I can make sure no one goes into the mansion… I can make sure no one dies!_ He unconsciously clutched the book closer to him. _Yes. That's all I have to do. That monster won't claim any of them…_

"Italy," a familiar voice said, breaking him from his thoughts, "What are you doing just standing there? I know the meeting is over, but at least do something."

Italy's head turned so quickly he felt his neck crack, "Germany!" he gasped.

Indeed, standing right beside him was Germany. Alive. Without injury. Italy almost couldn't believe it. He had watched Germany die… he had seen him take his final breaths, watched as the light faded from his eyes… and here he was now as though nothing of the sort had ever happened.

Germany looked at him confusedly, "Yes…?"

Italy could feel a smile suddenly appear on his face. _A smile… I'm smiling! How long was it since I had done that…?_

Seeing Germany alive really couldn't count as a surprise, though. In fact, it was expected. However, the fact that he was talking to him, looking at him…

Germany studied his friend's growing smile with nervousness, "What are you…" Germany began, but Italy cut him off as he jumped into his arms.

_You're not dead! You're not dead! Thank Heaven that you're not dead!_ Italy thought, for his voice didn't seem to work. He tightened his grip, as though giving an inch would cause his friend to disappear again. _…and you don't smell like blood or fear or…_

Germany suddenly pulled the smaller man off of him and held him at arm's length. Italy looked up bemusedly as Germany's face filled with embarrassment.

"What was that about?" he asked angrily.

"I… uh…" Italy began, feeling his happiness wane slightly as Germany's eyes burned into his own.

"We're in a professional setting, please try to behave yourself!"

"But… but Germany…"

Germany wouldn't hear it. He just shook his head and walked past, "Honestly," he mumbled.

Italy watched silently as Germany left, feeling a little ashamed of himself. _This is the first time I've seen Germany in a while and I've already gotten him upset at me…_ he thought miserably. However, before he could sink into any sort of depression, he heard America's voice ring out from across the hall.

"So, are any of you game on going to the haunted house?" the young nation asked loudly, looking expectantly at the rest of those who had gathered there. The other countries simply looked at one another, trying to gauge each other's reaction to the question. The general consensus was "mild curiosity."

Italy paled.

"It sounds like a good sort of bonding activity or something, right? Come on, it'll be fun!" America goaded, grinning, "It's close, too… just east of the city nearby. Hey, it's not like we have anything better to do."

Italy worked his jaw up and down, shivers coursing unbidden through his body. The horrible memories of seeing everyone dead flashed before his eyes once more. He could still smell it… the blood, the fear… he could still hear the screams and the shouts, the last dying breaths… he still could see the light fading from everyone's eyes… feel the loneliness that tore at his soul…

_I have to stop them! They can't go! They can't go!_ Finally finding his voice, he let out a loud "NO!" that startled the entire conference. Everyone turned to stare at Italy, whose jaw began working furiously again to get himself to speak more, "You can't go! There's a monster there! You'll all get killed!" He managed to shout.

"A monster, you say?" France asked.

"Yes!" Italy cried, forcing back the memories that flooded his mind. If he allowed them to surface, he could get paralyzed again. "You can't go back there! None of you can go back there! It's not safe! You all died!"

"We all… died," said Prussia slowly.

"I don't feel dead, do you feel dead?" America said, looking at England.

"Of course I don't feel dead!" England said indignantly.

"Wait… did you say, 'go _back_ there?'" Canada asked, but he was ignored.

"Wait… Italy, you're the one who suggested this in the first place. Why don't you want to go through with it now?" America asked, genuinely confused.

"He probably had a nightmare about it," Prussia supplemented with a grin, "His eyes are always closed… maybe he slept through the meeting and we just didn't notice."

"But…! I…!"

"I guess that's a plausible deduction," Germany sighed.

"No! You don't understand…!" Italy cried.

"I think that the haunted house idea sounds exciting," France said, jumping up and grabbing England by the arm, "Come, let's explore it together!"

"Let go of me!" England snapped, trying to twist out of France's grip.

"Come, now… where's your sense of adventure?" France asked. England simply growled in response.

"I want to go, too!" Prussia said, jumping up, "It does sound a lot more fun than just hanging around the meeting room for the rest of the day."

"You are completely right," France agreed, paying no mind as England began prying France's fingers off his wrist. "Come, Canada! You should explore with us, too."

The young nation slowly got up from his seat, "I… uh… okay," he said awkwardly.

England had managed to release himself at that point, but as soon as he had done so, France's other hand grabbed him.

"Okay, so the four of us are going!" France crowed, "We'll see you soon!"

"But… you can't… we all…" Italy began, feeling his hope slip away like sand through a sieve.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Prussia said with a grin. Then, the four of them were off, though England put up a tremendous fight to not do so. It took both Prussia and France to get him through the door while Canada silently followed them out.

Italy watched them leave, eyes wide, body frozen. _They're going to die. They're going to die! _

Silence fell after the four left from sight. Those who remained stared somewhat bemusedly at each other.

"I still want to go," America said after silence had persisted in the room for a moment or two.

"I… we… we have to go after them!" Italy croaked, "They'll get themselves killed! I know it!"

"You want to go now? After all that fuss you made about not going?" China asked.

"Well… that was before anyone left…!"

"I want to go," Russia said with a smile.

"No! Wait! You can't! All of you can't! They shouldn't have! You stay here… and…and I'll go and get them back!" Italy shouted, already hurriedly making his way toward the door.

He was stopped from moving any further by a hand that fastened securely around his forearm. "What's going on with you today?" Germany asked.

"You don't understand! The longer we wait, the closer they get to the mansion! The closer they get to the mansion, the closer they are to their deaths!" Italy cried, struggling against Germany's strength and not succeeding.

"If you're going, I want to come along, too," America said.

"I already said I wanted to go," Russia said, smiling politely and standing up.

"I'm going, too," China decided.

"I probably shouldn't leave Italy alone in this condition, so I have no choice but to go as well," Germany sighed, keeping a secure grip on his frantic friend's arm.

Japan frowned, but got up from his seat, "I really don't want to go, but I'll be lonely if you all leave and I stay. I'll come along."

"No! The more of you that go, the more of you will die!" Italy cried out, not giving up in his futile struggle, "Please let me go, Germany!" he begged, "I don't want it to happen again!"

"Are you okay?" America asked.

"Italy… calm down, it was a dream," Germany said firmly.

"It wasn't…" Italy moaned, feeling extremely desperate at that point. However, fighting Germany's strength seemed to get him nowhere... the longer he fought, the more time he wasted. Realizing this, he suddenly stopped struggling. He hung his head as his mind raced; _Maybe if I just go along with these guys, I can get to the others in time to make sure they don't go in…_

"Are you done?" Germany asked, noticing that his friend was no longer trying to flee.

Italy nodded mutely. Germany released him.

_It's very lucky that I had a second chance at all... even if they do make it inside the house before I get there._ Italy thought, standing off to the side, trying to calm his nervousness as everyone took an excruciatingly long time preparing to leave, I_ know my way around… if I can keep these guys from entering and get those four out… it… it will all be good…_ Italy frowned as his stomach twisted painfully.

…_I hope…_


	5. Grief

**A/N: I just want to take some time out to thank you all for your support of this story. I hope it continues to hold your interest!**

* * *

><p>Italy bowed his head and began a soft prayer in its original Latin, making the sign of the cross over the body of another one of his fallen comrades. The rest of the countries respectfully looked down, some crossing themselves as well. They listened quietly as Italy continued in the ancient tongue, some understanding, some not, all marveling at the beauty and melancholy of the sound.<p>

A single country leaned against the far wall behind the crowd, head turned away from the spectacle, eyes staring straight ahead. He tried to ignore the soft prayers and the murmurs of agreement from the rest, as though not acknowledging it would stop it from happening.

_He's not dead…_ he told himself resolutely, closing his eyes and allowing the wall to take all of his weight, _He can't be dead… _

Italy closed the prayer and looked up.

The rest did so, too… except for the single nation who leaned heavily on the wall behind them. Italy watched him, knowing all too well what was happening to the poor country's soul. He turned away quietly, his hand unconsciously reaching into his pocket to rub the binding of the old black-bound journal.

After a few moments of silence, countries began making their way out of the room, many stealing one last glance over their shoulders at the young nation lying on the bed. He was the second to die, right after Japan...

For nations to die… especially one so young… it didn't seem right… it didn't seem fair…

As Italy left, he took a final look over at the nation leaning against the wall and felt a wave of sorrow wash over him. _I'm sorry…_

The suffering country's eyes remained firmly shut, his breath slightly shuddered, but his face held no emotion. His body was perfectly still… if he moved, he might have to open his eyes… and if by chance his eyes landed on _him…_

"England," a soft voice said.

The suffering nation stiffened.

He opened his eyes slightly to see a young nation standing before him. The country was slightly taller than he, blond hair, thin-framed glasses… a feeling of hope surged unbidden though England's body. He wasn't dead. He knew it. He _knew_ it. Here he was right now… they were wrong.

"A-America?" England whispered. The young nation smiled sadly in response.

No…

No…

That wasn't right. This young man's hair was longer, his eyes were darker…

This wasn't America.

England shut his eyes and turned away.

"I'm sorry," Canada said softly, "I know he meant a lot to you… he meant a lot to many of us…"

"He… he didn't mean..." England muttered, voice shaking slightly, "He…I… he's not dead…"

"England…"

"No," England muttered, cutting him off, "No…he isn't dead… he can't be dead…"

"England, please try to…"

"No."

Canada sighed, "I miss him, too… but you can't lie to yourself…"

"I'M NOT LYING!" England suddenly roared, trying to scare Canada into silence. He wanted the young nation to just be quiet, to leave him be. He didn't want to know… he did not care to know… he couldn't bear to know…

However, Canada wasn't fazed at all by the shout. If anything, his gaze became harder and his voice a little firmer, "England."

The older nation wouldn't listen, his mouth set in a frown and his eyes determinedly shut tight.

"England," Canada tried again, a little more forcefully.

England still didn't acknowledge him.

Canada took him by the shoulders and shook, "England, listen to me, I know that this is hard for you, but you can't just ignore it. He won't come back, even if you live the rest of your life in denial."

"I…" England began.

"This is asking a lot from you, but you have to do it, we don't have the time to grieve here…" Canada looked down, "We don't have the… we don't have the power to grieve here…"

England was silent.

"You have to stay strong… I know we've already lost two of us… but you can't give up…" Canada continued, eyes not leaving the floor. The room fell silent.

Slowly, two thin arms wrapped around Canada's back and pulled him closer. Canada quietly returned the gesture, rubbing comforting circles on his former brother's back. The older nation leaned heavily on the younger, resting his head on Canada's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time, neither trusting himself enough to speak.

This was all they could really ask for… just a few stolen moments of sorrow in a place where no one was safe.


	6. Mask

**A/N: I want to thank you all for your support, I truly appreciate it!**

* * *

><p>"Brother," Germany whispered, holding Prussia's hand in both of his.<p>

Prussia smiled weakly, blood leaking slowly from one corner of his mouth, "Hey, West… you're not going to start crying, are you?" he asked.

Germany didn't trust himself to speak, so he squeezed Prussia's hand tighter. His mouth was a taut line, but his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Ah… you don't have to cry for me, West…" Prussia said, smirking. His voice was gravelly due to the blood in his throat and mouth, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He acted as though he had seen worse… that was how he got through a lot of things.

Did he see much worse, though? He was flat on his back and couldn't move, there was a gaping hole in his chest and blood was filling his mouth with its sharp metallic flavor. His pale hair was matted and stained red, his clothes were ruined. In the past, he had survived many scuffles, lived under the influence of other countries, walked home nursing wounds that he would just get again once they had healed over… but this…

Yeah, he wasn't going to recover from this.

_West knows it, too._

Prussia wasn't about to lie about it… but he certainly wasn't going to get all sappy about it, either.

That wasn't who he was.

"If you do have to cry, you should cry for Spain and France… they're going to be out a member, aren't they? They can't be a trio anymore with me gone…" Prussia gave a shaky laugh.

Germany bit his lip. He wanted to say something, but he feared that saying anything would cause his tears to spill.

"Look, you don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine," Prussia said, "I'm all set to go to the best afterlife possible… just because I'm me." He flashed his brother his trademark smirk.

Germany laughed in spite of himself, and a few tears broke free from their bonds and slipped down his face.

"You see? I can still make you smile," Prussia said, coughing slightly but the smirk was still evident on his face.

"I'm going out in the best way, you know…" he continued, "I took on the beast completely solo and killed it… and even though it managed to injure me like this, no one can say that the story of my death will be anything short of awesome. That's all I can really ask for, right?"

"Please don't talk like that," Germany said in a low voice, trying hard to keep the rest of his tears from falling, "You didn't have to do it… you didn't have to sacrifice yourself for me…"

"Ah, I wanted to do it, I have no regrets…" Prussia said. He smiled softly, "Hey… but West… there's just one thing I need to say to you…"

Germany gripped Prussia's hand tighter, "Yes?"

"Well… thank you," Prussia smirked, "Thanks for being my brother."

Germany blinked, "I…I…" he sighed and closed his eyes, "Thank you for being mine."

Prussia sighed as well, his smirk still on his face, "No problem… it was the least I could do," he breathed. He slowly relaxed as his eyes fluttered closed. Gradually, his breath became shallower and shallower until it had stopped completely. The room became still.

A few seconds passed… and then Germany's mask shattered.

He collapsed on the body of his dead brother, sobbing. The one who raised him, pestered him, laughed and fought with him… he was suddenly was no more. Germany couldn't bear to believe it… he never thought for an instant that such a thing could happen… it couldn't be true… it simply couldn't be…

"Why did it have to be you…?" Germany whispered, pulling his brother's body close to him, "Why did you have to die...? Why… why…?"

When the young man came back to the others with the mangled body in his arms and dried tears on his face, no one dared to speak… a single word would be enough to devastate him once more.

What could be said, though…?

What wasn't already known…?

The mansion was indeed a terrible, terrible place.


	7. Isolation

**A/N: Well, here's another one after a very long break. Thank you all so much for your support! I truly appreciate it!**

* * *

><p>He had kept to himself for the most part. The only interaction he really had with other countries was primarily to gain knowledge and further improve his own culture. For centuries, the waters that surrounded him kept him safe from unwanted change and invasion, kept him unaltered by any hand save his own.<p>

Of course, it all changed when Westerners started taking notice of him, and he finally began taking notice of them.

He became aware of the fact that time never could stand still… that he had to advance, just as the Westerners had. As he did before, he began taking the parts of the foreign cultures that he liked and incorporated them into his own. It seemed like a good thing…however, as he and the world grew and strengthened, things like the boundaries of water became less and less potent. Some things that he wanted kept out couldn't be forced away as easily as they had been before, and some things in his culture started to become rarer and rarer.

Sometimes, it annoyed him. Sometimes, it thrilled him.

It made him wonder… did he truly like the other countries with whom he shared the earth? If one were to ask him at any other moment, he wouldn't have been sure how he would have answered.

"Japan!" a far-off, desperate voice called to him, "Japan! Can you hear me?"

Japan forced his eyes open and was met with nothing but blurred sight. The voice sounded again, "Japan?"

He blinked, slowly becoming aware that the voice was from the person supporting him. Italy, he figured.

"You'll be okay!" A loud, nervous voice exploded a little further away, "It…it doesn't look too bad!"

_America…_

Japan shifted, but as he did so, pain shot through his entire body and he was forced back into his original position. _Why does it hurt so much…? …and why is breathing suddenly so hard…?_

"We-we got rid of the beast for you," a voice said, sounding slightly stiff, "I… I'm sorry we couldn't have gotten here sooner."

_Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault…_ Japan wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth, all that he could force out was a weak cough. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he gave a feeble smile.

"Do… do you think you'll make it, Japan…?" Italy's voice whispered.

"Don't ask him that! Of course he will!" America's voice yelled, sounding high and desperate, "It's impossible that he wouldn't!"

"We've already lost others…" the soft voice of Russia murmured, "It's not impossible at all…"

"Don't listen to him, Japan," America's voice said, suddenly up close to his ear, "Come on… survive… for us…?"

The young nation was just so naïve, so innocent… Japan smiled tiredly, turning to face America's voice. He wanted to tell America that he would get better, that the injuries he sustained wouldn't get the best of him. He wanted to answer Italy in the affirmative; he wanted to be able to respond to all of the other voices murmuring softly in the background.

…but he could not.

He could not… and it pained him.

He had wondered for a long time whether or not he had liked the other nations of the world. Did he only keep ties with them because they bought his products, sold him theirs, and allowed him his choice of new cultural features…? Could he live in isolation again without ever caring what happened to these other nations?

Before, he might not have ever been able to answer those questions.

…but in this mansion, with these people…

With all he had seen, all he had experienced…

As his breath faded and his heart stilled, he finally knew.

He couldn't have lived without them.


	8. Thank You

**A/N: Hello, everyone. Summer's finally here and all that, so I can actually get to writing again.**

**I want to thank you for all of your support, and I hope that my stories continue to hold your interest!**

**...but I've gone on long enough.**

* * *

><p>"No, no… you can't die. You can't die now…" Italy whispered.<p>

"Yeah… hang in there… you're not supposed to go before me," Prussia said softly.

The two crouched beside their fallen comrade, watching the young man's shallow breaths worriedly. Italy wanted to get him out of there, get him to someone who knew how to treat his wounds, but Prussia feared moving him would cause too much of a shock to his system…

…and what if another beast came?

Germany groaned softly, turning his head to face his brother and friend. Italy felt his heart constrict as he took in the sight. The normally strong, austere man he knew looked so frail now. His usually neat hair and clothes were in a state of disarray and covered in red. His clear blue eyes were hazy, his face looked hollow from blood loss…

"You look terrible, West," Prussia laughed softly, trying to ease the atmosphere in any way he could, "Though I suppose we all look terrible, huh?"

Italy looked at Prussia then down at his own body. Prussia was right… they did all look terrible…their clothes torn and covered in blood, their hair matted… but it didn't bother him. It was Germany lying on the cold floor, Germany fighting for his breath, Germany...

"You can't die," Italy repeated, shifting closer to Germany and brushing some hair out of his friend's eyes, "Please don't die…"

"Italy…" Germany said softly.

The young man froze.

"If I ever said or did anything that… that…" he swallowed, "I… if I ever…"

"Don't talk…" Italy whispered.

Germany shook his head weakly, "You were a good friend… and I'm sorry for… for being the way I was…"

Italy shook his head roughly, "No! You are the best friend I could ever ask for!"

Germany gave a weak smile that made Italy's heart sink like a stone. _Don't smile at me like that! _Italy wanted to shout. It was the way he smiled then… when he first… Italy shut his eyes tightly, but still heard the words, "Thank you…" whispered softly to him.

Germany shifted slightly, his eyes on Prussia.

"Brother…?"

"Yeah, West…?" Prussia asked, sliding closer.

"I… I want to thank you… for looking after me all those years… and if I ever did anything to you…"

"Oh, for crying out loud, West! You did nothing to me!" Prussia said, trying to grin, "…you were a great little brother!"

Germany looked away, "Thank you… thank you both…" he said weakly.

"Hey… don't get all mushy on us, West…" Prussia said softly, "You'll be okay, you'll see…"

Italy took up Germany's hand, "Yeah…" he whispered.

Germany shook his head weakly, his eyes drifting over his brother and his friend, "No…" he whispered.

Italy squeezed his friend's hand comfortingly.

"…thank you…" Germany whispered again. He closed his eyes and allowed his breath to get weaker and weaker until it faded into nothing.

Italy felt Germany's hand go limp.

"No… no no no…" he whispered.

Prussia put a comforting arm around the young man's shuddering shoulders, "Italy… I…"

Suddenly, Italy was hugging him, burying his face in the crook of Prussia's neck and sobbing, "It… it happened again! I-I promised i-it wouldn't ha-happen again! I…I _p-promised!_" he cried, "I-I'm so sorry!"

Prussia rubbed Italy's back in comforting circles as he rested his chin on Italy's shoulder and choked back his own tears, "I… I'm sorry, too…" he whispered back. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't think… how could he think…?

His little brother, West…

Prussia closed his eyes and allowed the tears to flow.


End file.
